The Heart Wrenching Truth
by Written Fire
Summary: England learns some hard truths and comes to a shattering realization. Set at the beginning of the Cold War, strictly a one-shot.


_Hello, all. Just so you know, I am almost starting to give up on posting my Hetalia stories. People just don't seem to like them...*sigh_

_Anyways, here is another England story, and it is not very happy D: I'm sorry! I don't know why but my Hetalia stories just seem to come out this way!  
_

_I hope you like it anyways, though!_

_**Disclaimer: I do not Hetalia: Axis Powers and have never claimed to do so! **  
_

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When England woke up that morning, he had never expected to come across what he did. If he had he would have happily stayed in bed all day, so as to never learn the heart wrenching truth. It wasn't something he had ever expected; just the thought was laughable. Though, he supposed, it really shouldn't have been. There had been signs. Little details that had made one wonder. Perhaps it had been his own naïve hope that had sheltered him from it, that had kept him from realizing it sooner.

He should have known by now that he could never have what he truly wanted…he just wasn't made out to be happy, apparently.

His past should have taught him that.

When England arrived at the meeting hall that morning everything had seemed perfectly normal. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and France was trying to charm his way into yet another person's pants. He had rolled his eyes at the man before turning his back and continuing on, running into the Canadian fellow that he vaguely remembered. He had striked up a conversation, naturally, because that is what a gentleman did. It was pleasant enough, even though each time he chanced a look at him his heart would skip a beat at the remarkable likeliness he had to his brother.

He had a feeling he knew, for the first time it had happened a slight blush had blossomed on the others cheeks. Every time after that, when he would match his eye, the younger man would have this pitying look in his eyes. Thinking back on it, he supposed that really should have been one of the biggest clues; for it was no secret how the once empire felt about his former colony. Everyone knew about it, really.

Everyone but him.

England hadn't felt that anything was wrong until he hit the hall leading to the meeting room. Nothing was out of place, but he could not help but feel that something horrible was about to happen. His heart started to pound the closer he got to the door, his fingers shaking with suppressed panic as he started to hear the faint noises coming out of the room.

At first he had not understood the noises; he could not make sense of them. It wasn't until they were a foot from the door that he realized what they were. He had felt the warmth spread throughout his cheeks, and he threw a quick glance at Canada to see if he had heard it, too. England had made to look back, when he had noticed the look on the younger man's face. It wasn't one that he could describe, and he was so intent on figuring it out that he did nothing to hide the curiosity that he knew was plain to see on his face.

Canada must have felt his gaze on him for he wrenched his own from the door in front of him to the English mans, his face apparently having trouble deciding what color it wanted to be for it was an odd blend of flushed and pale. England had just opened his mouth to ask him what was wrong when he heard a noise that stopped his heart.

"Russia!"

It was America's voice, and it had come out as a guttural growl. The sound of something being slammed into another object was heard right after, heavy pants filling the air and drifting out to assault his ears. The other man's voice was heard soon after, saying something in heavily accented Russian, and though England could not understand what the nation was saying it wasn't that hard to figure out that it was something… _sexual._

He felt the blood drain from his face as he heard another unmistakable sound, his hand shooting out to the wall to steady himself as he became light headed. England just couldn't comprehend what was happening; he did not see how this could be happening. Russia and America hated each other, everybody knew that. Things between the two nations had been tense for a while, and the two had just entered a Cold War that had others in fear.

The two couldn't be in a room together anymore, not for any longer than a second. The tension between the two was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Many a meeting had ended with the two at each other's throats—literally. How could they be in there, doing…_that?_ For no matter how much England wished that the fact wasn't so, he couldn't deny that it was. Besides the noise, the look on Canada's face was enough to confirm it.

As he stood there, England couldn't help but curse his imagination. For he could just imagine, as he heard a hiss of pleasure-pain, the Russian yanking America's head back to expose his neck, and like some vampire biting down hard enough to bruise. The image shattered his already breaking heart even more. The noises coming from the room were steadily rising in volume, blaring in his ears until it was all that he could hear.

He didn't hear the gasp that passed his lips, or the catch in it. He didn't notice the tears that were starting to pool in his eyes, or the way his breathing was starting to turn uneasy. England did not feel himself stumble back from the wall, or how he would have fallen had Canada not caught him. He did not hear the soothing words that Canada was saying into his ear, the way his voice was uneven as he tried to suppress his own emotions at seeing the man that he claimed as family like he was.

It did not enter that he was being moved away from the room, and that the noise of them was growing fainter and fainter with each step back that they took. England took no notice of the Canadian bringing him into the safety of a distant room, closing and locking the door behind him to ensure their privacy. It did not click until Canada crouched in front of him where he sat on an upturned bucket to look at him, and his face, so like the bloody gits, caused the damn to break and the tears to shed.

He was vaguely aware of the comforting arms that surrounded him, the gentle hands that held him and ran soothingly through his hair. At the moment, the only thing that England could really comprehend was that the blue eyed blonde had managed to break his heart again, without even knowing. As he cried into the younger man's shoulder, he wondered how much more his heart could take before it was broken beyond repair. Wrapping his arms around him, he hoped that he would never have to find out.

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_I'm so sorry Iggy! D; I promise that I will write a story with a happy you in it, with a happy ending! _

_I hope that everyone enjoyed this~!  
_

_Thank you for reading it, and I would really truly appreciate it if you would review it!  
_


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